Touch
by Book-BoyObsessed956439
Summary: This is the story from Patch's perspective, about why he fell, and history repeating itself as he meets the reincarnation of the tempting girl who *caused* him to fall. Patch is drawn to Nora, but whether it is in Lust or Revenge, he is unsure.
1. Preface

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own _Hush, Hush_ and/or _Crescendo._ The characters belong to _Becca Fitzpatrick_ and her publishers, I am just playing with them! **

_**1758**_

Patch had met her at the local pub earlier in the night. Everyone had called her a _Lolita_, and that irked him. His friend, Rixon, had told him that she would never speak to him. Nor would she give him the time of day. Patch was always up for a challenge.

When he had approached her, she hadn't glanced upward. He took the seat next to her and admired her tiny body, the curve in-between her beautiful hips and voluptuous bosoms, tucked beneath a lacy, red and black corset, the long elegant flow of spiral-curled red hair and the heart shaped face.

"Enjoying the view, sir?" She asked in a voice that dripped like velvet.

Patch suddenly felt vulnerable, but maintained his cool composure. "Difficult not to, my lady."

Something played at her lips, a smile of mischief. "I've been told."

Patch had no response, so he waited for her to speak again. She looked at him for the first time. "You have magnificent eyes."

Blue as the sky, he remembered Rixon saying when Patch was at a young age, over millennia ago. The Archangels all had those eyes, and Rixon was jealous. Patch spat on Rixon, he had fallen, after all.

"Nora," said she, she did not tell patch her last name.

"Patch," he said clumsily, feeling a fool.

"Patch?" She snickered crudely. "What a peculiar name."

"A nick-name," he said. "From the lesser folk."

"I am not lesser folk, I shan't be called 'lesser folk'." She glowered at Patch, he meant not to offend her. "What is your real name . . . Patch?"

The way she said his name engulfed his mind. "Call me Cipriano."

"That is not your first name," Nora informed him.

"I am well aware." Patch smiled at her.

After what seemed like moments of flirting, Nora had downed her final drink of the night, and stood. Her petticoats teased under her skirt, and Patch felt his heart flutter.

"Allow me to escort you home?" Patch requested.

Nora looked at him as if he were mad and lifted her delicate brow. "I was under the impression you would never let a lady go home alone on such a dark night."

"Of course," Patch said quickly.

Patch felt someone grab at his upper arm. " 'Ave y' lost yer _mind_?"

"Unhand me, Rixon," Patch said.

"Y' don't want t' fall, m'Lord." Rixon's dark eyes were filled to the tip with concern. "Trust me."

"Why would I trust scum like you?" Patch asked, genuinely confused.

Rixon looked pained, and shoved Patch toward Nora. "Do as y' wish. Enjoy the lass, but realize y' is the scum y' claim I t' be."

Patch was now in the Nora's home, sitting on her sofa like loafer. She excused herself to relieve herself, and returned less her skirt.

Patch must have stiffened because she giggled. "Nervous about something, Cipriano?"

Patch felt fear hit his gut, Rixon had been right. Nora began to unlace her corset, the ribbons looping gracefully in front of her breasts, and sauntered toward him. Patch should've stood, left, rushed away from the temptation which the Archangel's would've called The Devil's Hand. He winced, why would he give himself to her? He couldn't feel anything anyhow.

Suddenly he wished it was Cheshvan, where he could've taken Chauncey and used his body for this. If the Archangels knew of Patch's claim of his Nephilim, they would have his head.

But Nora's body was so . . . alluring.

Patch stood abruptly, heading towards the door.

"What is it, Cipriano?" Nora asked, sounding hurt.

He looked back into her fierce eyes and felt his defenses fail him. Nora walked to him slowly, and pressed her hands into his chest, undoing his intricate shirts various folds, ties and buttons. Patch closed his eyes and his head leaned back on the door. He could feel her.

He always wanted to feel someone . . .

His hands snaked up onto her waist, and he felt her lips touch his neck. He shivered as Nora whispered, "Yes."

Patch let her grab his hair and throw him onto the floor. She rolled him over and pressed herself against his body. The pressure alone felt amazing, and he wanted more.

They tossed and turned and fell over each other as if they had been waiting for eternity to be together. She held him, touched him, made him feel alive.

* * *

As he knew they would, the Archangels found out. They were furious.

Patch remembered well how it happened, how they grabbed his arms and pinned him to the ground on his stomach. His pleading screams and they tore off his shirt, exposing his back, his wings, and the icy hot pain he felt when the ripped his wings from his body.

And then there was the shame.

Patch hated the way they looked at him as if he were useless, as if he were the devil. He hadn't done anything wrong! He pleasured himself, he was happy and it felt amazing, why was that a crime?

He begged them, but his two closest friends grabbed onto his arms again and lifted his bleeding form up. His knees wobbled, and he was just happy he didn't have to stand on his own. He felt his hands shaking and the sweat falling down his face as the lead Archangel called out in the ancient language. A dark portal opened at Patch's feet, and he felt himself begin to cry. He tried to hurl himself backward, but he was too weak. He glanced at his captors, he previous friends. "Please," he yelled. "Please, don't do this!"

And they shoved his broken form down into the darkness.

The cold, the fear, the tears, and the blood. Every single tragedy that ever happened on earth, Heaven or Hell, was here. He remembers children dying in the streets, innocent people shot in a robbery, woman beaten, raped and killed. And then himself, atop the beautiful Nora.

He didn't belong here, not with these . . . these evil, heartless and cruel people.

After hours of torture and torment, he hit the cold went ground of the earth, where he would forever be.

"Aye, laddy. How was it?"

Patch looked up at Rixon's cold face. His dark eyes were warm though, as he extended his hand to his friend.

"How was it to feel again?"


	2. Surprise

**Chapter 1**

I hit the cue, sending it ramming into the 1-ball, sending 3 and 7 into the pockets. I smiled smugly at Rixon. "Told ya."

"Bloody hell." Rixon laughed and threw another twenty on the table, which I snatched. "Aye, lad, you're gonna wipe me out."

I shrug. "That's the point."

"Patch?"

I stiffened. Of all the people I _didn't_ want to see. "What do you want, Dabria?" I ask without looking at her.

She stands behind me, her long hair tying he hands up. How I wish it tied her legs, and she stayed away from me. "Is it truly you?"

I said nothing.

"It is!" She snickers. "The archangel who fell, that hasn't happened since Lucifer. How unfortunate."

"What. Do. You. Want?" I snarl. Rixon glances from Dabria to me, wondering if he should intervene.

"No need to be cold, how I've missed you so." She dragged her nails slowly down my arm. "I've been having visions of you, dangerous ones."

I sighed at set my pool stick on the table and grabbed her arm, dragging her over to the bar. I slammed her into it, glaring at her with my black eyes. "What kind of visions?"

"So menacing with those ebony irises, love," She purred. "Do you remember that girl? Nora was her name yes? I wonder if she would even recognize you with that darkened expression and the lack of manners."

I rolled my eyes. "What do you want with me? Surely not to talk about Nora."

"Oh, but to talk about Nora is _exactly_ what I wish to do." She smiled and poked my chest. "You see, I've been having these dreams about you."

"Not unusual." I shot the bartender a glance that told him to buzz off.

"Mmhmm, yes, yes. Anyhow, the dreams are of you trying to kill this young girl with that mark."

She pointed to my wrist, at the oddly shaped "birthmark." I call it that because it was what the humans thought it was, whereas it was really where the blood from my back had dripped and burned in the vortex. I pulled the long sleeve of my black tee shirt down. "So? I was trying to kill a Nephilim, no surprise; I would be human if I did. What's your point?"

"My point is it wasn't just any old Nephilim, it was the exact copy of Nora." She lifts a brow. "You, my friend, appear to have had some serious swimmers for a four-hundred-year-old."

I feel myself flush slightly, most likely in anger. Embarrassment is a possibility too, but I would never admit that aloud. "Again I ask . . . your point?"

Dabria sighs. "You plus Nora equals baby. Baby makes baby, baby makes baby, three hundred years and forty-some generations later, you have the exact replica of Nora, with a powerful birthmark, meaning that her father – who is surprisingly out of the picture – was a Fallen too!"

"I get that!" I yell. "What is your point?"

She smirks slightly. "If you kill her, her body is yours."

"I'd rather keep what I got below the belt the same, thanks." I turn away from her, secretly thinking of how it might be nice . . . to be human.

Dabria slaps my back and I wince, the scar burning badly. I cough and glare at her. "What?"

"Patch, honey, I have a job as the counselor at the school this girl attends, and I sighed you up as my nephew."

"Excuse me?" I snarl.

"Relax! I gave you your Archangel last name, Cipriano. You start next week."

"You're screwing with me, right?" I asked. "This is just some idea to rile me up."

She shook her head. "My name is Ms. Green. You are Patch Cipriano, and you are going to school with the duplicate." She shakes her head. "So far you only have Sex Ed and gym together, but I can fix that."

"Sex Ed?" I asked. "That's a class now?"

She shrugs. "Teenagers are sluts now, I suppose."

Knowing I am never going to get out of this, I sigh and ask. "What's her name?"

Dabria grins. "_Nora Grey_."


	3. Falling

**Chapter 2**

The following Monday I was sitting at the desk in biology – which was taught by the gym coach, I might add – waiting to see this _Nora Grey_. Something told me this was a trap, and Dabria just wanted me to sit here and make a fool of myself. I leaned my head back in the desk and yawned.

"Seriously, Nora! Just date somebody! Anybody! What about that Connor guy? Or Logan! Alex? Come on!"

"Conner is a thief, Logan's a moron and Alex is a techie."

Her voice made me look up.

The blonde girl with her was a tad over weight, and wore a lot of make-up for eight AM, but she was kind of cute, I suppose.

But Nora made my heart skip.

The same dark eyes and the flowing red hair, heart shaped face and elegant hands, the tiny waist and hourglass figure. It was all the same.

Except the attitude, that had a drastic change. Her shirt was nearly to her collarbone with long sleeves, her jeans a size too big, held on with a belt. Her hair was falling in front of her face and she moves part of it behind her ear, her shirt pulling a bit at the sleeve to reveal a splatter birthmark on her right wrist.

It's her.

She sat down at the desk in front of me and the guy to my right tapped my shoulder. "She's a lost cause, don't even bother."

I say nothing.

"Seriously, dude. She is a haw-TEE – not that you can tell – but she is HOPELESS! She will not date anybody." He shakes his head. "Don't go falling."

A snarl escapes my lips, and I almost slap him for his poor choice of words, but I still say nothing. It would make no sense to him.

Nora glances back and meets my stare; she blushes a bit, grins shyly and turns back to her rambling chub-muffin.

"Vee'll do anybody," the boy says. "I've heard rumors."

"It's impolite to gossip," I say quietly, my voice low in warning.

The boy tilts his head as if I spoke Latin. "Huh? Why?"

"You never know what will hurt someone." I shoot him a sideways glare.

"Whatever dude," he says.

"Come on! Okay, how about James? Edward? Jackson? Tyler?" Vee continues.

"James is covered in tattoos off dragons and looks like a snake. Edward_ is dating_ Jackson. And Tyler always smells like a wet dog." Nora shakes her head. "Drop it already."

Vee continued anyhow. "Heath? Matt? Paul? Jared? And what do you mean Ed and Jack are dating?"

Nora lifted her brow. "Heath is a tool, Matt's on drugs, Paul is a sports nut and Jared . . . just, no."

I smirked slightly.

Vee groaned loudly. "Nora you have something bad to say about every single guy in the school. Are you into chicks or something?"

Nora echoed Vee's groan. "God, no, Vee!"

"Alright kiddies let's stop the chit chat and get down to our current subject – the next generation." Coach McConaughy slammed the door behind him. "Now, I know you all are _the_ generation, just ask your currents bands. However, we need to keep this reproduction going and – _EXCUSE ME!_"

The entire room silenced.

Coach cleared his throat. "Seeing how none of you appeared to be interested in this subject–"

"Oh, I'm interested," said Vee.

Nora flushed as the classroom chuckled.

"–with your current desk partner–"

"Nasty!" Vee shouted. "Not bi, thanks."

Coach stiffened. "I want every one on the left sides of their desks to move up a row, including you, Miss Sky."

Vee scoffed. "As if."

Coach glowered. "I am tired of everyone talking throughout the class, so I'm changing the seating chart starting with Miss Sky taking a seat-"

"You can't do that," Nora interrupted, voice panicky. "You can't change the seating chart in the middle of the school year!"

"But I can." He glared at her and I felt a bit of anger bite at my eyes. "Don't worry, Miss Grey, you won't have to remember anything new, for you get to stay right where you are. Miss Sky, please take a seat in the back."

Vee gave Nora a sad look and walked to the back of the room. I hesitated a minute before I moved forward and sat by her.

"Hi," She said shyly.

I said nothing.

She stares at me a second before nodding slightly and looking down at her textbook.

"Now, I want you and your new partner to learn everything about each other. And I will be checking this out, so don't just scribble things down," Coach says.

Vee yells from the back of the room. "What is your cup size, partner?"

Everyone laughs except for Nora and I.

Coach glowers and continues. "Ignoring. I want to know _everything_ about your new partner."

I open the notebook and start writing. _Quiet, shy, plays an instrument, into old style classic music, beautiful._

"Excuse me?" She whispers. "What are you doing?"

I look at her. "Writing."

Her eyes become shifty and she writes "Arrogant" on her page.

"Very nice," I mumble with a smirk.

She tried to ask me questions throughout the hour, but I stopped talking. At the bell, I walked out.


End file.
